


Weather

by FireLordFrowny



Series: Weather [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireLordFrowny/pseuds/FireLordFrowny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please don't kill me. :P I know I took forever on this, but I ran into a crapton of issues these past few months, and I've been hella busy with Life Things. Y'all know how it is. But the good news is that chapter 3 will hopefully come along much faster, and that in this adaptation, Toph will be getting a MUCH more dignified plotline than what she had in the drabbles. Hellyeah!</p><p>Thanks again for all the support, guys, and thanks SO MUCH for your patience! I hope you enjoyed reading. :)</p><p>So much love,</p><p>Firelord Frowny.</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Look At Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161474) by [FireLordFrowny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireLordFrowny/pseuds/FireLordFrowny). 



No one has learned to take Toph’s punches the way Zuko has. While the rest of the gang always flinches or yelps and remains annoyed with her chosen medium of affection, the Firelord has embraced it, and he looks forward to being beaten up almost as much as Toph looks forward to beating him up. Neither of them have ever been big on hugging, so somehow, between the two of them, her fists thudding into his triceps takes the place of a friendly embrace.

“Oh, _sweet!_ This is the _shit_ right here!” A wide grin is spread onto her face, and she elbows Zuko hard in his ribs. Nothing gets Toph Beifong more excited than a brand new bottle of Firewhiskey, straight from the Fire Nation. She pops the cap off, holding the bottle under her nose to give it a sniff before taking a swig and letting out a satisfied _ahhh._ “And this isn’t that lame, fancy crap, either - this is the real deal!” She always says that the best whiskey comes from the sleaziest, trashiest taverns in the Fire Nation.

Zuko smiles, absently rubbing at his side. “There’s a whole trunkful where that came from. It’s all yours.”  

“Are you _serious?”_

“Only condition is that you have to share.”

“Then how’s it _all mine?”_ She teases… or, he thinks she’s teasing. It’s hard to tell with Toph sometimes.

“Because you’ll only be sharing with _me.”_

She mulls it over for a little while before thrusting the bottle at him. “ Meh, Fair enough. You can’t drink as much as me, anyways. Even though you like to insist otherwise.”

“One of these days,” he says after a few gulps, “we’re gonna settle that once and for all. So where is everyone?” The house is empty, save for Toph and the servants who are still unloading all the Firelord’s luggage.

Only a grand occasion could bring the whole gang back together under one roof, and the abdication of Earth King Kuei is just such an occasion. Zuko, Toph, Sokka and Suki, and Katara and Aang have all been invited back to stay in the upper ring for the next two weeks, to enjoy and participate in the ceremonies and festivities. For most of them, it’s a vacation. But for Zuko especially, it’s a business trip.

“I dunno,” Toph answers, “I don’t keep track of those morons.”

“They’re getting on your nerves already?”

“Don’t you know it!” She laments, falling backward into the couch. “I mean, good grief. Don’t get me wrong - I love ‘em and all, but a girl can only take _so much_ of those lunatics. I’m glad you got here when you did. It’s hard not having anyone to complain about them to, you know?.” Complaining about their friends _is_ a distastefully entertaining pass-time, Zuko must admit. With Toph’s crassness and vulgarity, and with Zuko’s easily exasperated demeanor, they’re the only ones who can put up with each other for any extended period of time, and likewise, they can’t always handle the cheery, optimistic, positive attitudes of their friends. “I haven’t been able to have a good toe-picking session without Madame Fussy-Britches getting her panties in a bunch over it.”

“Yeah… she’s a piece of work, I know.”

But Toph hears the sudden shift in his countenance - the lowered pitch of his voice, the hesitation in his heartbeat, the unsteady set of his feet on the floor. “Oh… right. I guess you don’t wanna talk about her.”

Ordinarily, Zuko would shrug it off and insist that everything is fine, that it’s not a big deal, and that he doesn’t mind. But with Toph, he knows better. So instead, he sighs as he moves to sit on the cushion beside her. “I haven’t seen her in so long. I haven’t seen her since…”

“Do you want a heads up on when she’ll be back?”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

“Well then, heads up.”

“What?” His mouth falls open in horror when, only a second or two later, the front door opens to the sound of laughter and chattering; Katara and Suki have returned from a shopping trip. They’re carrying bags and wearing fancy, expensive-looking hats, going on about “that creepy man with the monkey” and “those cute little ducklings.” It’s Suki who first notices Zuko, and she stops, interrupting Katara’s sentence with a tap on her shoulder.

The room goes quiet the same way that people go quiet in anticipation of a bomb going off. Katara is still smiling, but Zuko can see plainly the rage that glints in her eyes; he’d always had a special talent for being able to make her angrier than anyone else. It isn’t until a few moments later that she says, lighthearted and unconcerned, “ _Anyways_ , Suki…”

The girls continue about their business, heading upstairs to unpack their shopping spree, and once they’re gone, Zuko lets out a massive sigh.

“Ouch…” Toph says. “Not even a ‘hello.’ I dunno what you did, man, but you must have fucked up pretty royally.”

Zuko hang his head down into his hands. “You have no idea.”

All Zuko can remember from the last time he and Katara saw each other is yelling. Lots and lots of yelling - her screaming at him in anger, and him shouting back, begging her to try to understand. There was nothing he could have said, though. In the end it was never really clear who broke up with who, but when everyone assumed it was Katara who called it off, neither of them disputed it. So for years, that’s the story they’ve stuck to.

He doesn’t know what to say to her now, but he should say _something,_ right? He isn’t sure which would be worse; ignoring her outright for the next fortnight, or pretending as though everything between them is fine. He’d like to think she could forgive him by now, even if he can’t forgive himself… but Katara’s grudges are practically legendary. When he goes to greet her in the kitchen, he hopes he isn’t walking into a death trap.  

“Hey, Katara.” He does his best to sound casual and she does her best to seem friendly, but they’ve both known each other too long and too intimately to be fooled. The smile she forces isn’t real, and neither is the levity in his voice.

“Firelord,” she greets him before directing her attention back to scrubbing dishes.  

“You know, there are people who will come here and do that for you if you just ask… you’re practically royalty here.”

“Maybe, but I’m not a spoiled brat, so…”

 _Just ignore that_ , Zuko tells himself. He figures she owes him a few petty insults. “Do you, uh… want any help?”

“Oh, please. You’ve probably never washed a dish in your life.” She knows it isn’t true, but right now she’d probably say anything to wound his ego.

“Not recently, no. You wash, I’ll dry.”

“Fine.”

Their teamwork is stiff and uncomfortable; it’s almost impossible for either of them to remember how effortlessly compatible they used to be.

“So…  I hear you and Aang are happy.”

“We are.”

“Good. Great. I’m glad.” The truth is that he’s only as glad as he is sad, and he isn’t sure which one manifests more in his countenance.

“Thank you, Firelo-”

“Katara,” He interrupts, pausing from drying a saucer to pinch at the bridge of his nose, “would you stop with the ‘Firelord’ shit?”

Her fingers tighten around the plate she’s holding. “Fine. _Zuko_. What do you want?”

“I…” He stutters for a little while. “I want us to be okay.”

“We’re fine,” she insists. “We’re as fine as we can ever possibly be. Okay? Happy?”

His shoulders sink with the intensity of his sigh. “Not really,” he mutters, at last turning to leave her in the kitchen. “It’s good to see you again.” He means it.

…

 _“Man_ , that was awkward.” Toph kicks her feet up into Zuko’s lap, lounging with her hands behind her head. “I mean, I could _feel_ the awkward in the _vibrations._ ”

“You heard that conversation?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but he still finds himself blushing, and rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Duh. You guys weren’t exactly whispering in the first place.”

“Oh. Right.”

She can feel the dejection in the way his weight sinks into the sofa and in the pattern of his breath. “Hey,” she says, nudging him with her heal. “It’s been almost three years, you know… That ship has sailed. Why hasn’t your heart gotten the memo?”

Zuko sighs, letting his head loll backward until he’s staring at the ceiling. “I wish I knew. But it could be worse, I guess.”

“Are… are you _ever_ gonna tell me the real reason why you two broke up?” She uses the gentle tone that she reserves only for Zuko when he’s in one of his _moods._

“I’ve already told you,” he says, and Toph can just about hear his eyes rolling. “Things just weren’t working out.”

“You know, that lie doesn’t get any less untrue each time you tell it.”

“And yet for some reason you won’t take the hint and stop asking me.”

“I’ll stop asking you when you stop lying.”

She sits up, then, leaning into his shoulder, and in turn he softens against her weight until they’re both slumped down into the seat.

For years Zuko has told her nearly everything, and she doesn’t understand why this is the secret he chooses to keep. She feels it locked up tight inside him in a place of guilt and shame, and she wishes she could reach right into him, past his rib cage and into his heart, and uncover it herself. Normally she’s respectful of when her friends want to keep something to theirselves, but something about _this_ secret, and the way it’s settled in his heartbeat, has always bothered her in a way she’s never been bothered before.

“Toph,” Zuko says, looking down at her. Her face is slightly angled up toward his, and her eyes seem to see straight through him somehow. “You know everything about me, right?”

“Practically.”

“So then you know it isn’t a lot to ask that you just allow me this one bit of privacy.”

“You’re so full of shit,” she mumbles, and Zuko laughs.

“I know.”

“Come on,” she tugs at his elbow, “we’ve got a lot of trouble to make around town in a very short amount of time. Let’s go get ourselves kicked out of a few taverns. That always cheers you up.”

It’s true, usually. There are few things that put a bigger smile on his face than wreaking havoc with the Blind Bandit and getting irresponsibly drunk and picking (and winning) fights with brawny men.  But right now Zuko can’t feel bothered to do much of anything. He shrugs a little and says, “I don’t feel like it.”

Toph says reasonably, “Then tell me what you do feel like doing.”

“I just want to sit and stay right here.”

“Is it okay if I stay right here with you?”

“Please.”

At that, Toph shifts around on her cushion, getting comfortable; she knows they’ll be sitting for a while. “Do you wanna talk?”

“Not really.”

“All right. You just let me know when you feel like doing something different, okay?”

“Nngh…” He mumbles, gruff and irritable.

“Well hey, you know better than to think I’m going to just let you sit around and mope all day. I’ll let you do your brooding for a while, sure, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get a smile out of you before the day is out.”

This is what Zuko has always simultaneously loved and hated about Toph. The part he loves is that she’s one of very few people who lets him have his moods (and he only reluctantly admits to his moodiness) without too much interrogation on the matter; there’s not a lot that goes on in his heart that she doesn’t feel in him, and she doesn’t usually have to ask questions to understand him. The part that he loves to hate, though - or hates to love? He isn’t sure which - is the part where she won’t let him be until she can feel him feeling better. Today is one of those days, and although Toph often makes it sound like he has a choice in the matter, they both know who’s really in control. Zuko learned long ago not to argue with her over it; she’s the only person he knows who’s more stubborn than himself.

…

When they go out, they dress down. They don’t look like a Firelord and an Earth Kingdom noblewoman, but rather, two typical low-life vagabonds garbed in dark rags and, for Zuko, a hooded cloak to help disguise his scar.

This tavern reeks of sweat and beer and every so often, shouts of triumph and dismay erupt from the circle of men engrossed in their gambling session. At the bar, Zuko is reading the menu to Toph, and an eager smile is spread across her face. “Let’s see here… there’s the Cupid Comet, the Fatal Barbarian’s Snare, the Famous Gory Whore… oooh, how about the Unholy Deadly Order? That sounds like it’s right up your alley.”

“Unholy and deadly? Don’t mind if I do!”

At that, Zuko slams his coin purse down on the table where it lands with a dense thud, calling the attention of the bartender. “The lady here will have as many Unholy Deadly Orders as she can handle, got it? And I’ll go for a Famous Gory Whore. Light on the gore, but heavy on the whore.”

After weighing the purse in his hand, the barkeeper happily obliges. And when their drinks arrive, Toph says to Zuko, “Don’t you drink too much tonight, okay? I plan to get hella trashed and I’ll need a babysitter.”

“Fine,” he agrees, after downing a bitter gulp, “but next time, it’ll be your turn to do the babysitting.” Then they toast their glasses clumsily, spilling froth over the edges.

“To good times!” she cheers, and with slightly less enthusiasm, Zuko echoes.

“To good times.”

“Do you wanna cheer me on while I kick some grown men’s asses in arm wrestling matches? I bet I can take down everyone in this whole place before I get too drunk to hold my head up.”

“I know you can.” Zuko has seen her do it before, and he’s always eager to see her do it again.

So after Toph chugs down half of her beer, she sets out to select her first victim. “Watch my drink for me, will you?”

Nights like these are what Zuko misses most about Toph when she’s not around. “Fun” isn’t really a thing that Firelords get to have very often, but when he and Toph get together, there’s no stopping them. His counsel always nags him over it, and insists that “Miss Beifong is a bad influence on you, sir,” but Zuko has learned that a significant part of being an Emperor is not always paying attention to what the advisors have to say. Toph does everything she can to drag Zuko into her reckless antics, and Zuko makes it no secret that he loves every second of it.

“Is that who I _think_ it is?”

Zuko’s attention is drawn away from watching Toph antagonize some gamblers by an arrogant, sultry voice that conjures up some pretty wild memories. He turns to face this woman, tugging aside one corner of his hood to see better. “June,” he says, grinning.

She’s got one hand on her hip, and the other holding a mug of some potent elixir that she’s already consumed most of. She smiles, too, and saunters over to settle down on the stool beside him. “I _thought_ that was you, Prince Pouty. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, you’re not exactly forgettable.” She leans in a little closer - just close enough for Zuko to smell the perfume in her hair. Then, looking over into his mug, she says, “You know, they named that drink after me.”

“The Famous Gory Whore?”

“Mhm.”

Zuko takes another sip, mulling over the taste. “Hmm. Bitter… abrasive… but satisfying. Yeah, sounds about like you.”

June is laughing and biting her lip. “So what brings you back into town?”

“The Earth King’s abdication. Gotta give a speech, meet with the new Queen and all that.”

“Right, right. I heard. Busy man, huh?”

“Funny thing is,” he knocks back a swig, “this is my vacation.”

“Hm. You’d think a Firelord could manage a better vacation spot than this dump.”

“Nah, I don’t think I’d have it any other way.”

“So,” June says, sidling up closer and tossing her hair over her shoulder, “did you come here so I could help you find somebody again? Or because you’re hoping for round three?”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure it’d be round four or five.” The first few times had sort of blended together, so it was hard to tell.  “But no, not this time. I’ve been learning to behave myself lately. And besides, I’ve got babysitting duty,” he adds, jutting his chin over to where Toph is now going head-to-head with one of the smaller men - she likes to work her way up to the big ones, just for show. “Not that I mind.”

June recognizes her and says, “The Blind Bandit! Well no wonder you’re not looking to hook up… she’s gotten to be pretty cute. You hittin’ that?”

Zuko nearly spits out his drink. “Fuck, no. She was hardly twelve when I met her, and I was damn near a grown man. I don’t think I could see her that way even if I tried.”

“Speaking of you being a grown man, boy, have you gotten to be the spitting image of Ozai, or what? Hell, you probably look more like your father now than you ever looked like yourself.”

Then instead of answering, Zuko tosses his head back and pours the entirety of his mug down his throat. That hadn’t been the thing he wanted to hear, and June says, “Uh oh, did I strike a nerve? My bad, Pouty, I’m only foolin’...”

“No, no, it’s whatever. Hey, look, it was nice talking to you, June, but I should probably make sure Toph doesn’t get roofied or something.

“Good call,” She agrees, standing to take her leave. “But uh, if you decide to start _misbehaving_ again, you know where to find me.”

“I do, indeed.”

“Check you later, Prince Pouty.”

“See ya, Famous Gory Whore.”

…

When she wakes up, her head feels like it’s being crushed between two slabs of stone. “Oh, fuck…” is the first phrase Toph utters, pressing her palm against her forehead as she struggles to sit up on the sofa where she didn’t remember passing out the night before. She’s only vaguely aware of the suppressed snickering coming from somewhere in the room, but she does have the presence of mind to groan, “Fuck off, Zuko.”

“I don’t think you want me to do that. Here,” he says, and Toph hears him kneel down beside her. Then he takes her hands and wraps them around a cup; the warmth seeps into her palms and fingers, and she finds herself smiling with delight at the scents of ginger and honey and lemon.

“Is this Uncle’s recipe?” Toph had taken to referring to General Iroh as “Uncle” years ago; nobody was quite sure when it happened, but neither Iroh, nor Zuko minded. In fact, they welcomed the addition to their tiny family.

“No, just my knockoff imitation.”

“Close enough,” she settles, holding the cup under her nose while she waits for the tea to cool enough for sipping.

“There’s Komodo chicken soup on the stove, too. I’m just keeping it warm for whenever you’re ready.”

Toph has never liked being taken care of, but she’d probably let Zuko dote upon her all day long if her ego wasn’t so enormous. Her favorite parts of their nights out are always the mornings after - when he brews tea and cooks soup and (occasionally) holds her hair back while she throws up. She’d never admit it to anyone, but it’s nice to be pampered, and it’s especially nice to be pampered by someone who is usually the Worlds Most Irritatable Man.

“So, did I take down all those guys last night?”

“Mhm. Somehow you managed to get through every last one of them before you puked on the manager and got us kicked out. It was a sight to behold, like always. Now, hold still.” She does as he says and a few moments later one of his hands is grasping her chin while the other dabs at her face with a moist towel. “You’re such a mess,” he says, and she can hear him smiling. His hands are firm, but gentle in a way that she imagines only firebenders can manage - equal parts power and restraint.

“You know, Zuko, I’m starting to think you _like_ taking care of me.”

He wipes away smudges along her cheekbones and brow. “Yeah, right.” But he’s still smiling at her, and she isn’t sure, but she thinks she’s smiling dumbly back at him. Right now she feels twelve years old again, and she hates it. She’d hoped that her girlish infatuation would fade over the years the way it did with Sokka, and sometimes she thinks it has, but moments like these always remind her otherwise. Usually she plays it off well enough, but this hangover is making it difficult for her to do anything at all. Her flirting, she hopes, passes as simple teasing.

Toph asks, “What about you? Did you have a good time?”

“Good enough,” is his answer, and Toph is hardly satisfied.

“Lame,” she complains after swallowing a few sips of tea.

The truth is that Zuko hasn’t stopped thinking about what June said. Part of him wishes he could ask Toph if it’s true that he looks like his father, but most of him is just glad she’ll never know for sure, or even care, for that matter. “Would you shut up and relax already?”

While Zuko always prefers to be left alone and in silence while he recovers from a crazy night out, Toph hardly ever stops talking during her hangovers. He is typically content to indulge her half-conscious musings, but today he doesn’t wish to be bothered with it. It’s true, though, that he likes taking care of her, albeit in a weird, almost-brotherly sort of way. He thinks maybe it’s an ego-boost of sorts, being the only person Toph allows herself to be taken care of by. Zuko never had a nurturing personality, but, he supposes, there’s an exception to every rule, and Toph is the exception to many of his rules.

Zuko is the exception to Toph’s rules, too - a fact she’s prompted to remember each time she finds herself growing content with his closeness. It isn’t until he’s done wiping her face that she realizes she’s been holding her breath. So she exhales gently, hoping he won’t notice. “I think I’m ready for that soup, now.” The tea has settled her stomach enough that she can eat without retching all over the place.

“Coming right up,” he says, disappearing into the kitchen. Toph can hear him clumsily fumbling his way around - the impatient opening and closing of cabinets and drawers as he searches for wherever the bowls and utensils are kept, the precarious clinking of porcelain and silver… she’s laughing quietly to herself, imagining the most powerful leader in the world navigating a kitchen like a battlefield.

She calls out, stifling her laughter, “You all right in there?”

“Don’t patronize me! I’m not used to-... _dammit!”_ Glass suddenly shatters, and Toph’s chuckles morph into outright guffawing, despite the hungover throbbing in her skull. “Yeah, you’re laughing now… I hope you like broken glass in your soup.” He’s muttering obscenities to himself as he returns, placing a bowl in Toph’s lap. “Here.”

She lets out a _mmm_ as she brings it to her lips to sip at the broth. “You know, Zuko, for someone who can hardly make his way through a kitchen without accidentally butchering himself, you’re a pretty decent cook… wait… there’s not _really_ broken glass in here, is there?”

“Did you seriously think I’d feed you broken glass?”

“Maybe if I pissed you off enough,” she reasons, and after considering for a moment or two, Zuko shrugs. He’s about to say something when Katara’s voice interrupts him.

“It’s _about time_ you woke up, Toph,” she quips while coming down the stairs with an armful of dirty laundry. “Oh, and that was nice, you stumbling in drunk last night, keeping me up with the sound of your _endless vomiting_. Real classy. Keep that up.”

Toph groans and mutters to Zuko, “You see what I’ve been putting up with?”

“And you!” Katara turns her attention to Zuko, who drags one exasperated hand over his face. “Toph wouldn’t be such a mindless drunk if _you_ didn’t encourage it. You two imbeciles are going to drink yourselves to death one of these days, I swear.”

“Katara,” Zuko urges, trying to be civil, “could you be a little quieter? She’s pretty hungover, and-”

“Now _that’s_ a change of pace! _I_ should be quiet so _Toph_ can be more comfortable? Please. I’ll be as loud as I want, thanks.” With that, she gives a self-satisfied toss of hair, and leaves through the back door, and Zuko stares after her, a little bewildered.

“See what I mean?” Toph says, “She’s an even bigger bitch than usual.”

“TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE, TOPH.” Katara screams from outside, and Zuko rolls his eyes.

“Katara isn’t a bitch. Don’t call her that. She’s just… upset.”

“With _what?_ ”

He answers in a low grumble before turning to follow her out. “With me.”

Outside, Katara is yanking garments from off of the clothes line and throwing them into a basket. She’s muttering to herself - something about _irresponsibility_ and _carelessness_ and _doesn’t he ever_ think _before his actions…_

“Hey,” Zuko says, and Katara jumps a little - she’d been so focused on channeling her anger into doing laundry that she hadn’t heard him come out behind her.

“I’m _busy,_ in case you didn’t notice.”

“Look. I know you hate my guts. And you should. I get that. And if it makes you feel better to give me a hard time about everything, well then, I can deal with that. But stop taking it out on Toph.”

“What?” Her tone is suddenly more reasonable and as she turns to face him, one eyebrow is raised in a questioning arc. “I’m not taking anything out on Toph…” While Katara and Toph hardly got along on a good day, it wasn’t as though she didn’t care for the girl. They were friends, in that twisted way that people who loathe each other can sometimes be friends. If she was, in fact, _taking anything out_ on Toph, it hadn’t been intentional.

“Yeah, right.”

“Oh, come on! _She_ just called _me_ a bitch! Aren’t you gonna lecture her about that? Or maybe you _agree_ with her.”

Keeping his voice level is a challenge - instead of yelling like he wants to, his jaw clenches until his teeth ache. “I’ve never had anything but respect for you.”

“Hah! We both know _that’s_ a lie.” She’s standing up straight with one hand on her hip. The smirk in her eyes and at the corner of her mouth is _daring_ Zuko to disagree with her.

He _could_ argue - he could argue that it’s not as black-and-white as she’s making it seem, that it’s more complicated than this, and that she couldn’t possibly _truly_ understand the reasons why he did what he did - but it wouldn’t be anything he hasn’t already said before. And if it hadn’t worked then, it certainly wouldn’t make a difference now. So instead, he simply sighs, averting his eyes. “Anyways, I just wanted to ask you to lay off of Toph. And I’ll ask her to try not to annoy you so much.” He turns his palms upward, compromising. “Sounds fair?”

For a long while, the blue of Katara’s eyes seems cold as the South Pole as she glares at him. But soon enough, she exhales, and the set of her shoulders soften. Looking at him now, with the earnest look in his eyes and the insistent way his arms are extended, she almost remembers having felt loved by him. She turns, reaching up to unclamp a robe from the clothesline.

Low and placated, she says, “Fair enough.”


	2. Chapter 2

The part Zuko hates most about being Firelord is the part where he has to be seen by the public. Most of the time, he can perform his duties from the comfort of his palace, or an otherwise private location. But while one half of being an Emperor is meetings and orders and signing papers and making decisions, the other half is akin to a theater performance. Today’s abdication ceremony is much less to honor King Kuei and his successor, and more just a show for laypeople to enjoy. Zuko tries to convince himself that it’s necessary - the people need to see the leaders of the world cooperating and supporting one another - but it doesn’t help him to hate it any less.

He spent ages staring at himself in the mirror this morning, picking out tiny details, shifting around so the light would hit him at different angles, trying to prove to himself that it was all just in his head. Every time he looks at himself, he seems to resemble his father more and more. And if June had noticed, then certainly others have noticed, too.

In just a few hours, he’ll be delivering a speech to a massive audience of Earth Kingdom citizens, and the thought of them all staring at him makes him feel physically ill. So ill, in fact, that when Katara sees him out on the front porch staring off into space at a cloud-darkened horizon, she actually bothers to ask if he’s all right.

“...Are you feeling okay?” She comes out behind him, then quickly adds, “I’m just asking because it wouldn’t be a good look for the Firelord to be in poor health today. If you need healing-”

“I look _that_ bad?”

“...Okay, nevermind then. Obviously you’re fine. Forget I asked. I’m going to finish getting ready.”

But before she reaches for the doorknob, Zuko says, “Wait…”

“What?” She’s eager to end the conversation already.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Can’t you, I don’t know, ask Toph?” It’s an honest question.

“Somehow, I don’t think Toph will be able to help me with this. Besides - you’re the only person I know who hates me enough to give me an honest answer.”

She almost rolls her eyes. There was a time during which she would be girlishly enamored with his propensity for being dramatic, but now, she’s at least a little annoyed by it. “Make it quick, then.”

“Do I look like my father?”

At that, her disinterested demeanor gives way to a cold shock. Her first impulse is to tell him _no, of course not_. But as he turns to face her straight-on, there’s no mistaking it. It’s always been so easy for Katara to look at Zuko and still see the face of the angry boy she’d fallen in love with. But Zuko isn’t a child anymore. The soft features of his mid-teenage years have sharpened and matured to favor the sunken, square angles of his predecessor. It’s in the strong shape of his jaw and the intense set of his brow, and mostly, it’s in his eyes. It’s weird for Katara to think about, but it’s not as though Ozai hadn’t been a handsome man. It only makes sense for his only son to grow up in his image.

Finally, she says, softly and perhaps even with a note of sympathy, “...Maybe a little. But,” she tries to amend, “it’s mostly just when you scowl… which is often.”

“I see.” His expression does not soften.

Tilting her head a little as she looks up at him, she suggests, “Try smiling more.” And then, she heads back inside.

 

…

It’s considered bad form for a Firelord to share his palanquin with anyone outside of the Royal Family. Zuko and Toph both know the only reason they aren’t getting lectured about what’s _proper_ and _acceptable_ is because it’s so early in the morning that crowds haven’t gathered yet - no one is around to see them riding to the Earth Kingdom Palace together. But Zuko knows that out of everyone in his life, Toph is the least concerned about what’s _good form_ and what isn’t, and even if there were millions of pairs of eyes staring at them, she’d still be exactly where she sits now, contentedly picking at her toenails. Zuko _almost_ smiles -  there’s something refreshing, and even comforting, about the fact that even with her noble status, Toph has always done whatever she pleases to do, and has never cared who sees her doing it.

“Quit worrying,” she says suddenly, and Zuko’s almost smile turns into a slight frown.

“About what?”

“About your face. So what if you look like your dad?” She gives a careless shrug.

“You can’t understand what it’s like. I can be as different from my father as anyone can possibly be. That won’t stop people from just seeing Ozai’s Disowned Son when they look at me.”

“That’s because,” she reasons, “you _are_ Ozai’s disowned son. But you’re Zuko, too. You can be both at the same time, you know. Anyone worth a shit will understand that.”

“I dunno…” He’s uneasy, shifting around and fumbling with the cuffs of his sleeves. So Toph takes her forearm and swings it against his ribs.

“Didn’t I just tell you to s _top worrying?_ Look,” This time, she’s gentler. “I know you’re nervous. I know you hate speeches, and people staring at you, and everyone whispering under their breath, and people grimacing at the sight of you-”

“You’re supposed to be _helping_ me, remember?”

“-But all they _really_ care about is that for the first time in a century, the Firelord is on their side. Okay?” She’s smiling - a big, earnest smile that should have been infectious.

“I wonder,” Zuko says, “If you’d say that if you could actually see me.”

“I _can_ actually see you. All the parts of you that matter, anyways.” Toph can feel instantly the way Zuko softens beside her. “Sometimes people ask me if I ever wish I weren’t blind. The truth is, I don’t. I’m better off this way. And if you could see the version of yourself that I see, you wouldn’t have any doubts about who you are.”

Zuko almost wishes he was blind, too - or that everyone else in the world was.

He says, “Thank you, Toph. That helps.”

“Meh,” she gives his shoulder a playful shove, “let’s not get too mushy, now. I just don’t want you to fuck up your speech.”

Zuko can see one of the palanquin bearers flinch at Toph’s language, glancing uneasily over his shoulder.

…

The Earth Kingdom Royal Palace is still being prepped for the ceremony. Servants and workers are hurrying through the halls, pinning up banners, sweeping away dust, and running around with checklists as they monitor their progress. While Zuko has been escorted to the green room to prepare for his speech, Toph has made her way to a table of fruit that was supposed to be off-limits until the reception. Workers are giving her disconcerted looks, but no one dares ask her to stop eating.

Toph knows she’s not exactly a crowd favorite - people respect her, but mostly because they worry what she’ll do if they don’t. In fact, of all the ambassadors and representatives that have come together after the war, Toph is probably the least supported. If it weren’t for her friendship with Zuko, she thinks she’d be hard-pressed to get anyone at all to take her seriously. Most of the time she’s unphased by it, but occasionally she finds herself wishing that people weren’t so _bothered_ by who she is. After all - It’s not like being blunt and crass and daring to have a sense of humor ever hurt anybody.

She’s shoving a wedge of pineapple into her mouth when, at the far end of the corridor, a familiar set of vibrations catch her attention. _You gotta be kidding_ , she thinks, almost feeling ill. She wipes her sleeve across her mouth, angling her back in such a way that she hopes she won’t be recognized. But no… no, those footsteps are definitely coming her way. She lets out a flustered sigh.

“...Toph? Toph, is that _you?”_

“Nope,” she says around her mouthful of fruit.

“Don’t be _ridiculous!”_

Then, Toph mutters something disgruntled (and probably obscene) and turns around. “Hi, mom. Dad. Good to see you, I guess. So-to-speak.”

She almost feels silly for not having anticipated running into them - _of course one_ of the wealthiest families in the entire Earth Kingdom would be here. But the honest truth is that Toph thinks so infrequently of her parents these days, that they hardly even crossed her mind.

Toph hasn’t seen them since the end of the war - she’d returned home briefly, partly to offer an apology for running away, but mostly to tell them she was leaving again. To _“find herself,_ ” as she’d put it. Her mother had gotten teary-eyed and asked only once for her to stay before accepting Toph’s decision. But her father? “ _No daughter of mine,_ ” he’d said, “ _would dishonor her family this way._ ” He’d told her that if she left, there wouldn’t be a home for her if she ever decided to come back.

Now Poppy and Lao Beifong stand, awkward and unsure, before their daughter - Lao keeps mostly to the background, pretending to be uninterested while his wife does all the talking.

“Honey…” Poppy begins, cautious. “Look at you. You’re… you’re all grown up. Why didn’t tell us you’d be here?”

“Well,” she deflects, “ _you_ didn’t tell _me_ you’d be here.”

Gently, Poppy says, “I didn’t think you’d care to know.”

“Then why would I have cared to tell you?”

Toph can hear her father give an unsurprised huff, which prompts her to ball her hands into fists.

Poppy concedes - she doesn’t want to fight, even if her daughter is determined to do just that. “Sweetie, it’s just… it’s been _so long,_ and… since we’re all here, perhaps we could spend a little time together.”

Toph can feel these awful flutters of _hope_ in her mother’s heartbeat, and it makes her feel sick. “I dunno… I mean, you know, I’m really busy with Ambassador Stuff or whatever. Important things to be discussed with Zuko. I mean, _Firelord_ Zuko. I should _really_ stay focused on my work.” Toph knows that for a human lie-detector, she is an especially horrible liar. She feels her mother lean forward a little, desperate and insistent.

“Toph, please. I’m trying to reach out to you.”

_“Why?”_

“Because you’re our daughter, and we _miss_ you.”

At that, she lets out an unamused puff of air, gesturing in Lao’s direction with her chin. _“We?”_

“Yes, we. Lao, tell her.” She looks to her husband, glaring expectantly. When he doesn’t answer, she urges, “Lao!”

Then, straightening himself, Lao turns on his heels and finally says, “Let’s go, Poppy.”

Poppy’s eyes go wide. “But-”

“I said _let’s go.”_

As her father begins to head off, Toph spits a bitter laugh. The sound of her father speaking to Poppy the same way he spoke to his child made her angry. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Go on, mom. Do as you’re told.”

Poppy gives frantic glances at the workers passing by - people are starting to stare. It’s only with great reluctance that she begins to follow her husband as he leaves. “Just think about it, Toph.” She urges, hushed and desperate. “Come visit us. Please.”

When they’re gone, Toph finds herself short of breath - she leans against the table, fending off lightheadedness and fighting back the bitterness that’s still welling up inside her. Now she remembers why she’d started blocking out the thought of her parents in the first place. It had taken her a long time to accept that no matter what she did or said, they could never love her the way she wanted or even needed to be loved - with total and complete acceptance for who she is, or may ever choose to be. That isn’t something that the Beifongs can ever give her, and life is markedly easier when she convinces herself she’s fine without it.

 _Whatever._ When her heartbeat returns to normal, she shrugs it all off and starts scarfing down chunks of watermelon. She figures people can stare if they want - she can feel everyone’s bodies slightly angled toward her, just a little paused in mid-action, vaguely preoccupied with her. If seeing someone enjoy some good fruit is really that off-putting to anyone, then that’s their own problem. Not hers.

Tonight, she decides, she’ll get thoroughly wasted, and pretend this never happened.

…

“So, uh… pretty exciting, huh?” Aang is standing in the center of the room, slightly awkward with his hand rubbing at the back of his neck, while Zuko sits in one of the lounge chairs at the far end, angled just a little away from the Avatar. The regretful truth is that the Avatar and the Firelord haven’t exactly been talking lately. Not out of anger or spitefulness, but just because it’s… well, _awkward._

“What’s exciting?” Zuko asks, shifting around in his seat - the cushions are a little lumpy and there’s something itchy at the back of his robe, and he can’t get comfortable. Or maybe it’s the tension in the room that’s uncomfortable. He can’t tell for sure.

“You know. Kuei abdicating. Having a new Earth Queen… there’s never been an Earth _Queen,_ you know.”

“Oh. Yeah. Exciting.” But Zuko isn’t really concerned with whether or not the Earth Kingdom has had a queen, and honestly, Aang isn’t, either. They’re both too busy trying to ignore the massive elephant-koi in the room, and neither of them wants to be first to bring it up.

Aang paces around, giving critical glances to the landscape murals on the walls. He pretends to be interested in the artwork, but really, he’s looking for excuses not to make eye contact. “Has there ever been a… Fire Queen? Firelord-ess? What would you guys even call a Firelord who’s a woman?”

“They’re just called Firelords.” Zuko raises an eyebrow. “And yeah, there’s been a few.”

“Cool. You know, I was a woman in some of my past lives…”

Zuko’s forehead wrinkles before he says, stiff and uneasy, “...That’s, uh... nice. I guess.”

“Yeah… must be weird for the rest of you, only having one life and all.”

“Aang, what the hell?” Zuko’s face is twisted into a thoroughly put-off grimace.

“What?” Aang turns his palms outward, innocent and defensive. “I’m just trying to make conversation…”

Then Zuko looks away. “Well, conversation isn’t really something you and me seem to do anymore.”

At that, Aang lets out a deep sigh and turns his back. He’s missed his friend, and hearing him admit that they’ve slipped apart takes the wind out of him. After a little while he goes to join Zuko on the sofa, though they’re both careful not to face one another. “I’m sorry if I’ve been distant ever since…”

Zuko isn’t looking at him, but he can hear him scratching nervously at an elbow.

“It’s not just you. I haven’t really known what to say to you, either.”

“I’m not mad at you or anything. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” But Zuko hadn’t known, actually. Really, he’s quite relieved to hear Aang say it.

“It’s just, you know… _Katara.”_

Zuko has to force his question out around a lump in his throat. “What did she tell you?” He can hear his own heart slamming against his chest. It’s not that he’s afraid she lied to Aang, or exaggerated anything - he’s afraid that she told him the truth.

“Honestly?” Aang says, leaning back against the armrest. “Nothing. Just that I didn’t need to know, and that I shouldn’t let it get in the way of you and me. I guess I… I guess that was easier said than done, huh?”

“Hm. Yeah.” He tries to hide the bitterness in his voice; it’s not like he tried to reach out, either.

“You’re okay, right?” Aang is cautious. “With me and Katara?”

At that, Zuko has to laugh. Perhaps four or five years ago he’d be sick with jealousy. But now, the lack of animosity he feels toward Aang is the most evidence he has that he’s grown up at all over the past few years. Beyond that, often times he feels just as lost and just as ignorant as he was at sixteen. “It’s fine,” he says, and it’s the truth. “Everything is fine. Katara and me… it needed to end.” This part is also true, but it’s much harder to say. “And you’re a lot better for her than I could have ever been, anyways.”

Aang finally turns a little toward Zuko - his shoulders are more at ease now, and his eyes, soft and understanding. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing for you, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you weren’t the right person for Katara, all that means is Katara wasn’t the right person for you, either.”

It’s a lovely sentiment; one that might have prompted a smile from Zuko if things had ended differently with Katara. So instead, Zuko shrugs, indifferent and resigned. “Doesn’t matter. At least, not right now. Anyways, if not talking to me makes things easier between the two of you, I can deal with that.”

With tender eyes, Aang says, “Hopefully that won’t be a problem anymore.”

“All I’m saying is… I’ll never be upset with you for choosing her over me.” Then hastily, he adds, “Not that either of us would ever make you choose. Just. You know. No pressure.”

So Aang gives an awkward, appreciative smile. “No pressure,” he agrees.

Zuko had been about to say something else - something about how he’s glad they’ve finally talked things out, or maybe just glad that they’ve talked at all - when there’s a rap upon the door. “Pardon the interruption,” a servant calls from the other side, “but we’re ready for you now, Firelord Zuko.”

He suddenly feels heavy with dread, shoulders sinking before he pushes himself up to stand. “Well. Here goes nothing.”

“It’ll be fine.” Aang insists as he stands, too, giving the Firelord a spirited pat on the back. “You know what they say. Imagine everyone in their underwear.”

…

When Zuko takes his place at the podium, he is _not_ imagining everyone in their underwear. The hall is enormous - long and wide and filled to capacity with many hundreds, if not upwards of a thousand finely-dressed Earth Kingdom citizens. They watch him take the stand in silence and with scrutinizing eyes, and Firelord Zuko’s throat is burning with dryness. He worries what his voice might sound like when he opens his mouth.

There’s a cough in the audience, followed by another further toward the back, then a few more scattered throughout the hall as people begin to shift uncomfortably.

“Earth Kingdom citizens…” He begins, and the way his voice echoes back at himself startles him - does he _really_ sound like that? With sweaty palms, he grips the edges of the podium. “I am honored, and deeply humbled, to be here with you today, celebrating the closing of one reign, and the beginning of another. These changes in our world are very dear to me, and I know that with the help of Earth Queen Kuai, and the wisdom and support of her esteemed father, King Kuei, we can continue down this path of growth and peace.”

But the audience - those pale, made-up faces - seem skeptical at best. Some don’t seem to be paying much attention to his words at all, opting instead to wince at the sight of him, or whisper to the person sitting next to them.

It’s been no secret over the past few years how _reluctant_ many Earth Kingdom citizens have been to accept allyship with the Fire Nation. Some claimed they couldn’t be asked to trust a boy-king with the wellbeing of their kingdom. Others now insist that it would take more than five years and a new ruler for them to even consider respecting the Fire Nation. And others still, are blatant and unapologetic about the fact that they simply will not be moved to bow to the son of Ozai.

Firelord Zuko is now struggling to focus beyond the skeptical stares, and glares of judgement. He glances from his notes on the podium, to the audience, to his notes, and back again, as he goes on about peace and togetherness and tolerance.

In the front row, Katara’s brow is wrinkled with concern, and it hardly helps Zuko to know that she’s probably worried he’ll screw up, or stutter, or choke. Beside her sits Sokka and Suki, both doing a sub-par job at hiding their sympathetic looks. He feels a bead of sweat slide down the blade of his nose, which he impulsively moves to wipe away with the back of his hand.

But on the other side of Katara, sits Toph. Her opaque eyes stare wide ahead of her, a tiny smile upon her lips, either unaware of or uncaring about the way Zuko is being received. Whatever the case, those empty eyes seem to be exactly what he needs to get through this. The relief is almost instantaneous as he looks at her, feeling the tightness in his throat release. His voice comes out stronger, now, and his grip on the podium relaxes.

That smile on Toph’s face grows wider - it might have been imperceptible to everyone else, but for her, the improvement in Zuko’s demeanor is loud and clear.

In this tiny, secret, shared moment between he and Toph, Zuko decides that even if he can’t yet rally the enthusiasm of the Earth Kingdom, he can at least manage to be proud of his own efforts.

…

If Toph has her way, there won’t be any whisky left to share. It’s late in the evening after the reception, and she’s drinking straight from a bottle, lounging in her room while fiddling with her meteorite bracelet to pass the time. Downstairs, the gang has gotten together to chat over light snacks and tea. Toph had opted out, though, under the guise that she’s exhausted, and not feeling incredibly well. It isn’t a total lie, though. She _is_ tired, and she _does_ feel a little sick in the head.

The footsteps she hears coming down the hall are ones she’s been anticipating for a while, and she announces, “Come in,” even before he knocks. With a creek the door pushes open and closed again. “I was wondering when you were gonna come check up on me.” Toph says after downing another few gulps.

“Am I late?” Zuko leans on the door, arms crossed.

“Right on time for me to tell you to get lost.” Even as she says it, though, she’s scooting to one side of the bed to make room for him.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay.” He settles in beside her with a sigh, reaching for another whiskey bottle on the night stand. “Drinking alone? Even you only do that when you’re upset.”

“I’m fine. Your speech went well, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Thanks to you. Now what’s up?”

She should have known he wouldn’t let her get away with deflecting. On most days, she’s glad when he pries past her attempts at hedging around issues, but not today. She’s about to take another long swig before pausing with the bottle in front of her lips and moving to set it down. Then after a sigh, “...I ran into my parents today.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah. It kinda knocked the wind out of me.”

“I take it it didn’t go well?”

Then she shrugs. “...Mom wants me to come visit.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I guess, but… her and dad weren’t exactly on the same page about it. I dunno if I’m gonna go.”

They’re quiet for a little while, and Zuko takes a sip of whisky as he settles back against the headboard. He thinks this is the first time in a few years Toph has so much as spoken of her parents; it was a topic they delicately and dutifully avoided at all costs. For Toph, there was never much that was off-limits for conversation, but the Beifong family was often forbidden.

“...I think you should go for it.” He tries to sound casual.

“What for? What’s gonna be different this time around???”

“Nothing, maybe. Or everything. Look, all I know is that if I ever had the chance to even try to make things better with my own family, I’d take it. If things don’t work out, well… at least you can be proud of your own efforts. At least you’ll know you did all you could.”

Her arms are crossed tight and stubborn over her chest and with her mouth pressed into a line, she picks up her whiskey again and finally grumbles, “...You’re such a _fucking dork._ I’ll think about it, okay?”

“That’s all I ask.”

And at that, they clink their bottles together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me. :P I know I took forever on this, but I ran into a crapton of issues these past few months, and I've been hella busy with Life Things. Y'all know how it is. But the good news is that chapter 3 will hopefully come along much faster, and that in this adaptation, Toph will be getting a MUCH more dignified plotline than what she had in the drabbles. Hellyeah!
> 
> Thanks again for all the support, guys, and thanks SO MUCH for your patience! I hope you enjoyed reading. :)
> 
> So much love,
> 
> Firelord Frowny.


	3. Chapter 3

Their most intimate secret is that they are both terrified of thunderstorms. It was something they'd discovered about each other years ago, camping with the gang. Zuko had found her alone in the middle of the night, hiding away from everyone else. She'd been trembling and sobbing gently to herself with her hands pressed over her ears. " _What's wrong?"_ He'd asked, to which she'd replied, " _Mind your own business."_

" _Are you scared of the storm?"_

" _What do you think I am? A baby?"_

And Zuko had sat down beside her. " _It's okay. I won't tell anyone. As long as you don't tell anyone that it scares me, too."_

They'd spent that entire night silently huddled together until the storm passed, and to this day, thunderstorms are the only occasion for which they ever embrace.

The storm tonight is violent, dangerous, and chaotic, assaulting the walls with wind and debris, and rattling the windows with thunder. Zuko knows it's only a matter of time before she comes to him, and Toph knows he'll be expecting her - she doesn't bother knocking when she enters his room. She makes a beeline, clamboring into Zuko's open and waiting arms, where they nestle in close. For Toph, it's the thunder that ails her. The sound penetrates deep into the earth and resonates painfully inside her, throbbing in her skull until she nearly can't "see" anymore. And for Zuko, it's the lightning. With each strike he swears he can feel electricity burning in his chest. In tiny flashes he relives moments of terror and shame. It's been this way ever since his coronation, and it's only gotten steadily worse.

Over the years it's become like a ritual, the way they huddle together. Zuko's palms are covering Toph's ears while his chin rests atop her head, and Toph's hands are rubbing soothing patterns into Zuko's back and shoulder blades. "Do you think this one's gonna last long?" She asks in a voice so small that nobody would believe it was hers.

"I hope not."

"What do you do," she asks, "when we're not together? How do you get through it?"

The truth is that when he suffers through a storm alone, he'll curl up in bed and sweat and shake and do his best to think only of Toph; it's the only image he can manifest strongly enough in his mind to compete with the horrors that otherwise plague him. He doesn't want to admit it, though; it would sound too sappy and too needy - both of which are traits he and Toph pretend to thoroughly hate. So instead of answering, he deflects. "I just  _do,_ I guess. How do  _you_ survive?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

She sighs, hugging him a little tighter. "Sometimes if I can remember the sound of your heartbeat, the thunder doesn't hurt so bad." Then she smiles a small, tired smile when she hears the embarrassed flutter in his chest. "Yeah, I know. It's lame. And if you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll literally kill you."

"I know." He holds her tighter, too, seizing a little upon another flash of lightning. His breath labors and his body goes cold.

"You're okay," Toph reminds him. "You're safe."

"I know." But his response this time is empty and mechanical, like he isn't really there. Storms are worse for Zuko than they are for Toph. For her it's just a matter of temporary pain and the frustration of being powerless to do anything about it. But for Zuko, it's physically, emotionally, and mentally traumatic.

Toph knows he's gone now - or mostly gone, at least - and probably won't be back until after the storm. He's somewhere inside his head, trapped in dark memories. But as long as Toph keeps talking to him, she hopes, he'll be okay. So through her own pain, she talks - reminisces about when they were kids, tells lighthearted stories, recounts their past drunken adventures - anything at all to keep him from being dragged too far away into his mind.

...

As is typical of most firebenders, Zuko awakens the instant sunlight filters in through the window. He doesn't remember having fallen asleep, and it isn't until he moves to stretch that he realizes he isn't alone in bed. This is hardly the first time he's woken up beside a girl with little recollection of what had transpired between them, but  _this_ girl is Toph.

So for a few moments, he sits still and stares. She's tucked in close, small, and warm beside him, with her head nestled in the crook of his arm while one of her hands rests over his heart. She looks so comfortable - and honestly he's comfortable with her there, too - that he almost doesn't want to move. But ever so gently, cautiously and quietly, he begins to slide out from under her. She must be exhausted; he knows she's an even lighter sleeper than he is, but she hardly stirs at all.

Toph is pretty in a way he's never really noticed. Maybe it's harder to see when she's belching and scratching her armpits and swearing all the time, but there's no mistaking it now in quiet stillness. She  _is_ pretty in a silky, floral sort of way. He knows better than to think she looks  _delicate_ or  _weak,_ but there's something about the round smoothness of her features, and her smallness underneath thick blankets, that makes him smile.

But, he supposes, as much as he's enjoying looking at her, he'd better get her back to her own room.

He moves to slide his arms underneath her to lift her against his chest, and as he does so, her vacant, opaque eyes flutter open to stare into his face. "Hey, Zuko." Her voice is small and tired.

"Shhh. Go back to sleep."

"Are you feeling better?" She asks once he lifts her from the bed.

"I'm fine. Sleep."

"You really had me worried." Toph mumbles, barely awake as he carries her out the door and down the hall.

"I'm sorry."

"You're getting worse."

"I'll be okay."

Pressing her hand against his chest, she says, "You don't believe that."

"Yeah, well," Zuko pauses to nudge her bedroom door open with his shoulder, careful not to bump her head on the frame. "I'll believe it soon."

"If you say so." She knows he's just telling her want she wants to hear, but she's much too exhausted to argue. When he lowers her onto her mattress, she clings a little to his elbows before he pulls away and asks, "Is the sky clear?"

He checks the window behind the bed. "...I'm afraid not. But it probably won't rain again for a while."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Okay…"

And with that, she finally releases him.

She's asleep again before he leaves the room, and he takes extra care to close the door silently. Then leaning his forehead against the wood, a deep sigh drains from him. He's so distracted that he doesn't hear Katara approach from down the hall.

"What were you doing in Toph's room?"

"Huh?" He jumps a little, spinning around to face her.

"What," she crosses her arms over her chest, "were you  _doing_ in  _Toph's room?_ "

Upon catching the suggestive note in her tone, Zuko begins shaking his head. "No, it's not like that. I was just taking her back to her own bed…"  _That didn't come out right,_ he thinks.

"So she was in  _your_ bed?" She raises one disgusted eyebrow.

"Oh, for the love of-... you know better than to even  _suggest-"_

"Please, It's not like you  _haven't_ slept with nearly every woman you know."

" _I'm not-"_ He yells at first, but then hastily corrects his volume to a harsh whisper. "I am  _not_ sleeping with Toph."

"Then what was she doing in your bed?"

"It's…" He honestly did intend to try to explain, but he changes his mind. "It's  _none of your business._ I don't have to explain myself to you." Well, what was he  _supposed_ to say? That he couldn't handle a little thunderstorm by himself and needed to be babysat just to get through it?

"Of course not," she mocks him, rolling her eyes. "Forgive me for intruding,  _Firelord."_

"Whatever," he waves a dismissive hand as he turns away. "If you insist on staying mad at me, then fine. That's your right. But do it on  _your time._ Not mine. And leave Toph out of it."

"Don't just walk away from me!"

Zuko can almost  _hear_ her hands on her hips.

"See you at dinner, Katara."

...

 

Toph told everyone that she's gone outside the wall to practice her earthbending, but she's really smashing her feelings.

She has never done well with  _feelings_ of any sort. She only knows how to express emotions through crass insults and brute force; that's where she feels honest and at home. Anything other than that would feel…  _ridiculous._ And right now, she thinks her  _feelings_ are  _ridiculous -_ they're the kinds that are expressed in warmth, closeness, quietude and tenderness.

She thinks there can't possibly be a tender bone in her body, and she proves it to herself by smashing head-first through solid rock. She's unconcerned with warmth or closeness or quietude. Coldness, distance, and noise have been so good to her over the years, and why change a good thing? As the country folk in the Earth Kingdom say,  _if it ain't broke, don't fix it._

_And yet…_

Sleeping beside Zuko had been  _easy_. He'd been warm and close, breathing quiet, even breaths, and as her hand had rested upon his heart, she'd felt tenderness in the rhythm there. She'd been awake when he unconsciously began to embrace her in his sleep, and she'd let him do it. And it was…  _lovely,_ for lack of a better word. She's never thought of anything as "lovely."

 _Whatever._ She dismisses the thought, driving it from her mind as she pulverizes her way through rocks, crushing them to dust.

Toph Beifong is far too dignified to waste any time brooding over anyone.

She's the strongest person she knows, no doubt. Hell, if she wanted to, she could probably bring this whole city down just by clenching her fists. She could dismantle an entire fleet of Fire Navy ships and fold all the parts neatly into fourths. She is the greatest earthbender the world has ever seen - a force all her own, a status that no one could ever dream of threatening. Toph Beifong doesn't  _need_  anyone, and she  _certainly_ doesn't need Zuko.

(Except maybe during thunderstorms.)

...

 

The day after a storm is always stressful and exhausting. Zuko can hardly concentrate while he prepares for his meeting with the Earth Queen, and as he stares at his freshly washed face in the mirror, he tries to make himself smile. Katara had told him that he only resembles Ozai when he scowls, but it isn't true. Sometimes he has half a mind to burn the rest of his face off.

"My Lord," a voice calls from his doorway, "the palanquin is ready for you now."

"I'll be out in a moment," he says after clearing his throat.

It isn't a long way to the palace, but the palanquin bearers sure are taking their time. Earth Kingdom citizens and Fire Nation tourists shout for his attention, waving and clamboring over one another to get a glimpse of the Firelord. A more personable king would smile and offer a regal wave or two, but Zuko can't stop wishing he could just cover his face. He stares dead ahead, doing his best to ignore them, and he doesn't realize it, but he's scowling again.

" _I haven't got all day, you know…"_ he complains to the palanquin bearers, hopefully quietly enough that the spectators can't hear. The ride becomes bumpy and he's jostled around a little as the men pick up their pace. If Zuko could have his way, he'd have walked alone to the Palace, covertly in a hooded cloak like the ones he wears when he goes bar hopping with Toph. But no, being Firelord is a lot more than just giving orders and meeting with other world leaders; he has to let people see him doing it. When he complains about this to his advisors, calling it ridiculous and pointless, they tell him,  _it's politics, sir._ Frankly, Zuko doesn't always see the difference.

When he arrives, he's greeted by the new Queen herself. She smiles and bows her head, and the Firelord halfheartedly returns the gesture. They each dismiss their guards before she says with a crooked grin, "You look awful."

"...Thanks." Zuko raises an eyebrow.

"No sleep last night?"

"Not really."

"Did the storm keep you up?"

"Something like that," he says, following Kuai into the tea room where they sit across from each other on two cushions. Zuko appreciates how informal it all is; being royalty gets rather tiresome with all the manners and formalities and facades of professionalism.

"The weather's been unusually unbecoming lately. My apologies that it's put a damper on your visit."

"It's fine." He finds it absurd that anyone would apologize for the weather.

Then, she tilts her head to one side. "You really don't say much, huh?"

"I guess not."

"My father told me you were always a man of few words."

"Depends on what needs to be said."

"Indeed," she nods. "Well… I don't think there's actually a lot for us to go over, is there? My council was just  _insisting_ that I meet privately with you. Good public relations or something."

At last, Zuko manages a laugh. "Believe me, I get it. Sometimes it's easier to just give the people what they want."

"As long as it doesn't hurt anyone, of course."

"Of course."

Just then, a servant scuttles into the room, delivers a platter with two teacups, and hurries away. Both emperors ignore her expertly - that's what a lifetime of being served will do to a person.

"So tell me, Firelord," Kuai brings her cup underneath her nose, inhaling steam, "what  _do_ you think the people want?"

Zuko ponders for a minute, sipping at his tea. It's the same recipe that Uncle had made famous at The Jasmine Dragon. "...Familiarity, mostly."

A little downcast, Kuai nods. "There's not a whole lot that's familiar about the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom being welcoming of each other."

"No, there's not. But it's getting easier. My people are adjusting perhaps slowly, but surely."

"Likewise. I trust you've been treated well since you've been here?"

"With the utmost respect." Then again, who in their right mind would show the Firelord anything  _but_ respect? He imagines that the Fire Nation students studying in the exchange program at Ba Sing Se University are subject to a different story, as are the Earth Kingdom students currently studying in the Fire Nation.

Noticing the uneasy set of Zuko's shoulders, Kuai says, "It's a shame for me to admit, but I'm sure you've spent more time among the Earth Kingdom citizens than I have."

"I lived all over this country a for while. As a refugee. Or uh, a fugitive. Both."

"Then in your opinion, how different are the people of our nations?"

Zuko takes a moment to sigh. He remembers the plains village and his brief friendship with Lee. He'd helped and protected the villagers and they'd helped and protected him, but in the end, they'd decided that their village was no place for a Fire Nation native, banished or not. He remembers that awful play on Ember Island; an entire theater full of people cheering upon his death.

Zuko finally says, staring down into his teacup, "...We're not  _that_  different."

"I see. Do you think there's anything we can do to help ease tensions?"

"I believe," Zuko says, sounding more like a proper Firelord, "that our people must iron out their prejudices for themselves. Encouragement from us wouldn't be harmful - rules and regulations that would enforce fair treatment of everyone - but ultimately we can't force them to accept each other. Only time and dialogue can bring true understanding."

"Perhaps you're right," she concedes. "Firelord Zuko," she stands, and Zuko follows suit, "it's been an honor to properly meet you."

Then Zuko bows. "You, as well."

"I'd be happy to talk more, but my advisors insist I not keep your company for too long. You know. With your reputation, and all." She smirks good-naturedly, and Zuko feels his face beginning to flush.

"Yeah. My reputation." Inwardly, he's smashing his palm into his forehead.  _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ It had taken him far too long in the early days of his reign to realize that most women couldn't help but kiss-and-tell.

"We'll be in touch, Firelord. Send the Avatar and the others my regards."

…

 

Toph is waiting for him on the front porch, drinking tea and eating from a bowl of mandarin oranges.

"How'd the meeting go?" She asks around a mouthful.

"Fine. Queen Kuai is great, but not very… tactful. You better not leave those peels there," Zuko teases, sitting beside her, "else Katara will have a fit."

"Fuck Katara," she shrugs, tossing another bit of peel over her shoulder to land in the pile she's accumulated.

"Ouch. What'd she do to piss you off this time?"

"I heard you two arguing this morning."

"Oh…" Somehow he still hasn't gotten used to the fact that Toph hears damn near everything that goes on around her. "Sorry about that."

"Why can't she just give you a break?"

"I guess she ran out of breaks. She's given me a lot of those, you know."

Toph snorts her frustration, stuffing three orange wedges into her mouth. "I wish she'd just mind her own business."

"Maybe," Zuko suggests gently, picking up a mandarin and beginning to peel it, " _you_ should give Katara a break. If you knew the whole story, you wouldn't blame her for being upset with me all the time."

"I don't suppose this is your segue into actually  _telling_ me the whole story, right?" She huffs.

"You suppose correctly."

"Ugh. Dammit."

"Just promise me you won't get on her nerves too much, okay?" He nudges her with his elbow, to which she replies with a grumble. " _Okay?"_

"Fine!"

Zuko smiles, lifting one hand to ruffle her hair. "There's my girl."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. So," she says, shrugging away, "she thinks we're fucking now, huh?"

"I told her we weren't."

"Yeah, but still. She's right, you know - I'm the last girl you haven't slept with. There was Mai, Katara, that weekend-thing you had with June, that revenge sex that Suki had with you during that temporary breakup with Sokka," at that, she wrinkles her nose, "and that thing with Ty Lee that I'm not supposed to know about-... oops."

Zuko knows better this time than to be surprised. "Did you spike your tea with something?" He asks, detecting faint hints of alcohol on her breath.

"That Fire Whiskey you brought me. But I'm not totally smashed yet, or anything. Want some?"

Against his better judgement, he accepts and downs half the cup. "So I've slept with a lot of girls," he admits, leaning back and crossing one foot over the other. "What's that got to do with you? It's not like you're a  _real_ girl or anything… you're Toph."

"I hate to break it to you, buddy," she reclines into a similar position, "but Toph Beifong  _is_ a real girl."

"That's not what I mean. Of course you're a girl…"  _woman, actually,_ he thinks to himself, halfway relieved that she can't see him staring at her. She probably knows somehow though. Toph always knows. "If there's one thing I've learned from having been such a slut, it's that sex ruins everything. I mean, look at me and Katara. And Suki and I can hardly be in the same room without it getting too awkward. And Ty Lee, oh man… you'd think a man would remember more about sex with an acrobat, but we were so  _hammered_ and now for the life of me I can't figure out why she can't look at me without giggling."

"What about Mai?"

In a hard voice he says, "I don't even want to  _think_ about Mai. My point is… you and me, Toph… we're friends. We're perfect. I want us to stay that way."

Then they're quiet for a little while before Toph says thoughtfully, "Yeah… we  _are_  pretty perfect. And here all this time I was thinking," she jokes, "that the only reason you hadn't tried to screw me yet is because I must not have been pretty enough for you."

"Hah! Nah, Toph. You're…" He pauses, noticing the way her overgrown bangs are obscuring her face. Her cheeks and forehead are smudged with dirt, and her clothes are generally disheveled. "I know it probably doesn't matter to you, but you're very pretty."

Then she smiles.  _Grins,_ really. And if Zuko isn't mistaken, her cheekbones are flushing pink. "You know, the only other person to tell me that was Katara."

"Seriously?" He says, laughing.

"Yeah, if you can believe that."

He'd have never been able to tell her how pretty she is if it wasn't for this morning. Looking at her now, covered and dirt and all haphazardly put together, it's easy for him to see the same girl he saw when he woke up; the one with smooth skin and a sweet face adorned with small features like budding flowers. And he decides that perhaps he likes  _this_ version of Toph just as much - the unkempt, casual, brutish and uncaring version. Looking at her compels him to say, "Thanks for staying with me last night."

"What?" She's taken off guard. Typically she can predict shifts in conversation, but not this one. It seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Usually we part ways before morning. But you stayed."

Toph shrugs matter-of-factly, but really she's trying to tame the intense beating of her heart, and she's thankful that he can't hear it. "Of course I stayed. You needed me."

"More than you needed me," he adds.

"Zuko…" she begins, and she can already feel him about to disagree with her before he even knows what she's going to say. "Maybe you should just see a doctor."

"Absolutely not." They've had this discussion before.

"But it's getting  _worse."_

"I can't have anyone else knowing about what happens to me. I'm the  _Firelord._ It's hard enough to get my own people to take me seriously as it is and I'm not gonna let them add some crazy mental disability to their list of reasons why I'm unfit to lead my country."

The conviction in his voice is unwavering, and Toph knows better than most people that when Zuko makes up his mind, there's shit all anyone can do to change it. Still, she nudges his tricep and says, "You've never seen yourself when you get like that - and technically I haven't seen you, either - but… it's scary, okay? And I don't know how much I can really do for you if you keep going downhill like this. Listen," she leans in closer, gripping his arm. "I may not be fall-on-the-floor drunk right now, but I  _am_ tipsy enough to admit that I'm  _terrified_ for you. I want you to be taken care of by someone who might be able to help you better than I can."

"There's no one who can help me better than you can."

At that, Toph suddenly pulls away and crosses her arms over her chest. "That isn't fair."

"What isn't?"

"You putting that kind of pressure on me!"

Zuko stares into his lap for a little while; it's not like he ever  _wanted_ to be so dependant on anyone. "I'm sorry."

With a sigh, Toph says, "Me, too. I mean, maybe if we weren't so far away from each other most of the time, then it wouldn't be a big deal. But in another week you'll be back in the Fire Nation, and then who knows when we'll see each other again?"

The realization makes him sadder than he thought it would. And when he looks at Toph, the same seems to be true for her. He wraps one arm around her shoulder and nestles his chin atop her head, and at first she's stubborn to accept the embrace - after all, they save their hugs only for bad weather. But after a few moments of childish grumbling, she softens into him and together, they exhale.

"I'm gonna be fine," he insists.

"Liar." She's dismissive.

"I'm just trying to be optimistic."

"Tell me something, Mister Optimist. What does the sky look like right now?"

He casts his gaze upward, and his heart sinks at the ever darkening horizon.

"...Angry."

Their worrisome silence is interrupted when the door swings open behind them.

"Hey, Toph-" Katara says, then pauses and glares through narrowed eyes upon noticing the Firelord. " _Zuko."_

He turns to meet her eyes - she always seems so disgusted with him - and he knows what she must be thinking of his arm around Toph like this. But neither he, nor Toph move away from one another.

"Dinner's ready," Katara says tersely before retreating back into the house and slamming the door behind her. But a few moments later, she calls from the window, "And don't you leave those peels there, Toph!"

Zuko's shoulders are shaking with silent laughter while Toph snickers into his tunic.

"I told you so," he whispers, squeezing her shoulder.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY. PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR TAKING SO LONG. I definitely promised you guys that chapter 3 would be up "much sooner" and god, I wound up taking way longer. I hope this time I'm telling the truth when I say that chapter 4 will be up soon. Or, soonish. As always, I hope you enjoyed reading, and I hope you'll stick around. I've been having so much fun doing this for all of you lovelies out there. Please feel free to let me know what you think!
> 
> Love,
> 
> Firelord Frowny.


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